&& YOU FOUND ME AMONGST DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES.
a roundabout schedule that can be classified as busy and packed is, undoubtedly, a blessing in disguise. being occupied for most of the day keeps your mind active, and moulding yourself into a tight-knit timetable helps you from straying too far into the relentless cage that encompasses your thoughts. from what eden sees in the day-to-day life of his fellow university students, running around campus following their own agenda of their crafted plans, it’s how they cope. they keep themselves involved, bustling with different classes and events so that they don’t fall back into the confines of exaggerated loneliness. social circles, club activities, late night classes—all of that can distract the mind. eden would know. some days, he does the same too.
it’s an escape, but not quite the most effective. sometimes, an underlying urge compels him to stop in his tracks. the ghost of his silent rumination encircles its hand around his wrist, a cold touch that reminds him of the things he’d been trying to ignore, all the while subtly pulling him down, down, down—into an ocean of his own musings. a reverie he wouldn’t allow himself to touch, a can he refuses to open.
maybe the concept of overworking yourself to the point you’re unable to think of anything helps some people ( he can name one person off of the top of his head right now, but that’s the same name that has been lingering at the tip of his tongue for as long as he can remember, each stray line of his thoughts leading there even now ).
not for eden. he grows weary, he becomes vulnerable—and then, everything catches up to him all at once. take now, for example, as he’s sitting by the garden surrounded by a quiet that eats at him gradually, a reflection of the void within him. so eden fishes out his phone from his pockets, seeking the playlist he made all those years ago when his life was still okay ( that he still stubbornly adds onto ), stuffs his earbuds into his ears and lets the timbre of music accompany him. it works, for a little bit. he mouths the melody aloud himself, tapping his fingers against the solid ground, his own voice breaking the silence around him.
even in this state, his senses light up like fire. tired as he can be, he doesn’t miss the rustling behind him, the ambivalent approach that matches the sound of hesitating footsteps. eden kills the volume of his song to hear it all, though his voice doesn’t cease its incessant singing, hoping that’d be strong enough bait. one step, two steps, pause—three steps, four steps, five steps.
ah. so he’s stopping there. not too far, not too close. close enough to read, yet too far to reach. always so cautious. always a step away from turning the other way and leaving, if he chooses to.
a smile plays at eden’s lips regardless, a chuckle slipping past his defences. he doesn’t look behind, not yet. he pulls his feet closer, he cranes his back against the tree, he lets the silence sit in the air for a while longer. only when he’s sure that this much is alright, that this is safe, that they’re fine, does he say, “hey there.”
there’s that familiar flip in his stomach, the sharp pain against his ribcage, a tremble at the center of his chest. eden lets out a light laugh—it was easier to just laugh, back then. now, it’s his throat becoming too tight, a breath that escapes him with a small tremble, a laugh that he stitches together from their happy memories that no longer exist within their orbit, only in the hidden folders of eden’s camera.
“looking for me?” he questions, simply because it’s not out of the realm of possibility. they can avoid each other’s gaze, they can resign from each other’s line of sight, and they can even pretend neither is allowed within their shared plane of existence. but there are some things that never change, old habits that die hard.
“well, you found me.” you always do. eden crinkles out another laugh, patting the ground next to him. “you can come a little closer, you know. i won’t bite. not that it would scare you.” the teasing tone he takes is also born out of habits that he can’t seem to get rid of. this, too, must be the remnants of the consequences he has to deal with—the boundaries he established has become blurry, just like the fog clouding his brain right now. eden wants to blame it on the exhaustion creeping on him, so he does, another lie that he’ll only tell himself.
